


Right Where You Belong

by HardNoctLife



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bittersweet, Canon Universe, Feelings Realization, Feels, Light Angst, M/M, Zine: Lost in the Wild, gladnoct - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:13:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27034735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HardNoctLife/pseuds/HardNoctLife
Summary: Noctis is annoyed to find that the old saying holds true: you don't know what you have until it's gone.When Gladio returns from the Trial of Gilgamesh, he is forced to acknowledge his feelings.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 6
Kudos: 43





	Right Where You Belong

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for the [@GladNoctZine](https://twitter.com/GladNoctZine), which was one of my all-time favorite zine experiences. Thank you to the mod team and my fellow participants for making it such an enjoyable project.

“Shotgun!”

There is a collective groan from Gladio and Noctis. Prompto is sprinting down the Citadel steps to where Ignis is waiting in the driver’s seat of the Regalia, sunglasses on, and Ebony in hand. The doors are thrown open with reckless abandon as Prompto plops against the plush leather, sinking slightly as he puts his full weight into it.

Gladio and Noctis exchange a look. There’s no deterring Prompto once he has called shotgun.

Shotgun is _sacred_.

“Will you even _fit_ in the back seat?” Noctis asks, teasing and familiar.

“Are you calling me fat, princess?” Gladio is grinning as he walks ahead, clapping Noctis on the shoulder before vaulting into the car without so much as touching the door handle. It’s a fluid, almost effortless movement for one so large. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

Noctis huffs, rolling his eyes into the back of his head as he walks around the vehicle to climb inside.

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” He wriggles as far from Gladio as possible, but their legs still bump together, the one downside to the Regalia—zero personal space.

“Exactly what it sounds like,” Gladio drawls.

He takes a book out of the inside pocket of his leather jacket, and Noctis slumps down with a muttered ‘ _whatever_ ’ as the car pulls away from the curb.

Prompto is already reaching to turn the radio to some awful Top 40 Pop station.

“Seatbelts, everyone,” Ignis chimes.

His glare into the rearview is expertly ignored by Gladio and Noctis, neither of them making a move to obey. When the advisor sighs, returning his gaze reluctantly to the road, Noctis sneaks a look at Gladio.

His Shield’s lips are wound into a smirk, fist held up invitingly. Noctis cannot help himself—smiling slyly, he bumps his closed hand into Gladio’s in solidarity.

Gladio sets the book in his lap as the car hits the highway, the breeze slapping the pages and blowing his thick long hair behind him, a majestic mane.

Leaning against the door, Noctis settles in for a long ride.

* * *

“Hey.”

Noctis lifts his head off the cool glass, shadows scattering from behind his eyelids. He knows that it’s raining from the gentle pitter-patter on the Regalia’s roof. He isn’t sure what time it is, but none of that matters.

Nothing matters. Not anymore.

“You can’t just run off whenever life doesn’t suit you, you know,” Gladio grunts.

He’s squeezing into the seat next to Noctis, shutting the Regalia’s door behind him.

“Can we save the lecture?” Noctis’s voice is tired— _broken_.

He hasn’t slept in days. Not since the news of Insomnia’s fall. Galdin Quay has become a purgatory, its natural beauty like a slap in the face beside the glaring reality: his father is dead, Lady Lunafreya missing, and their home destroyed.

Even without looking, Noctis can _feel_ Gladio’s anger. It rolls in waves, crashing more violently than the ocean on the shore. It sucks any remaining strength from him. Leaning forward, he places his head on the back of the seat in front of him, barely containing a sob.

_I don’t need this right now._

Wordlessly, Gladio places one hand on Noctis’ back, palm pressing firmly in-between his shoulder blades.

“You aren’t the only one who lost someone.”

There’s a rawness to his voice like shattered glass.

Hurt recognizes hurt, and in the silence, Noctis hears what he has yet to acknowledge; they are _all_ grieving.

“Gladio, I…”

He stops. There are no words.

Suddenly, a strong arm is hooking around his neck. Acting on instinct, Noctis flails, hands shooting out to push Gladio away. They hit hardened muscles that don’t budge.

“What the—?!”

“Hold still,” Gladio snaps. His tone reminds Noctis of Gladio’s father. The prince stops fighting, limbs freezing in place like an awkward scarecrow. “You need to sleep.”

Noctis doesn’t follow until Gladio clears his throat, yanking his head against his shoulder.

“ _Ow_ ,” Noctis yelps, rubbing his temple. “What are you made of, _rocks?”_

Gladio snorts, but he relaxes his grip slightly. “Not my fault you’re so soft, princess.”

The rain starts to fall heavier then, and the deluge combined with the sound of Gladio’s heart in Noctis’s ear creates a soothing melody. Allowing his body to melt against the Shield’s chest, he feels his muscles gradually release and lengthen, his own breaths slowing.

“My job is to protect you, now let me do it,” Gladio murmurs with an unfamiliar softness.

“Yeah,” Noctis whispers. “Yeah, okay.”

* * *

The back seat is roomy, and that seems _wrong_.

“Sooo, Gladio never said when he’d be back?”

Prompto is turned around in the front of the Regalia, Ignis’s threatening side-eye not deterring him in the slightest. 

“Nope,” Noctis responds, the end of the word emphasized with a subtle pop of his lips. He scrolls through his phone, the fact that he’s irritated by the question irritating him even more. “Why should he tell _me_ anything?”

“He’s _your_ Shield.”

Noctis grits his teeth, hands clenching tighter. It’s not as if the thought hadn’t crossed his mind, but to have it spoken out loud only makes it hurt worse.

 _Yeah, I know. Thanks for the reminder_.

When Noctis doesn’t bother to continue the conversation, Prompto finally faces forward, leaving him to his thoughts. Ignis takes the opportunity to lecture them about adhering to the laws of the road (which includes proper seat belt usage).

_How can my Shield protect me if he’s not here?_

The question goes unanswered long after they stop to set up camp. It’s a lot harder putting the tent together without Gladio around.

“What’s eating you?” Prompto demands after Noctis snaps at him the second time, and he stomps away and into the woods, twilight colored trees the lone witnesses to his temper tantrum.

Once the sight and sounds of the campfire dissipate, Noctis stops and takes a deep breath.

In, out.

“What’s eating me?” Noctis echoes.

An image flashes clearly in his mind: Gladio, sun-kissed, arm draped over the side of the Regalia, a book in one hand. That smug, cocksure smile, bulging biceps, and ridiculous hair. It invokes a feeling of safety and security, of _knowing_ that anytime Noctis closes his eyes, he has nothing to fear.

Gone.

“What, you talking to yourself now?”

The unexpected question makes Noctis jump five feet as he whirls. As if summoned by his thoughts, Gladio stands behind him, massive hands positioned on hips, just as imposing as ever.

Noctis stares, willing it to not be a dream. Maybe he fell asleep in the car after all, and soon he will wake to find that they haven’t yet stopped for the night. Or maybe—this is real.

He needs this to be real.

“You go crazy while I was gone?”

Gladio takes a step closer, and Noctis feels his body heat. The fading light does little to dull the richness of his eyes, honey gold in the setting sun.

Something about Gladio is different, but it’s definitely him.

Gladio waves a hand in front of Noctis’s face. He hasn’t replied with a typical snarky remark, which is unusual.

“You good?” Gladio's head tilts into a question mark, a frown tugging at his lips. 

“You’re back.”

Noctis hates the unexpected flutter in his chest, the relief that makes his knees weak. When he puts a hand against a nearby tree to steady himself he hopes it looks more casual than it feels. 

“Yep,” Gladio confirms, nonchalant.

Noctis swallows a biting retort _._

“About time,” he says instead. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

“Sure did.”

It’s then that Noctis notices the sword on Gladio’s back, a thin and elegant katana, one that he didn’t have before. It looks almost as dangerous as him.

“Come on, I’m starving. I’ll tell you about it over dinner,” he offers, not waiting for Noctis as he heads in the direction of the haven.

* * *

Noctis isn’t able to get a handle on his feelings until the following morning when they climb into the Regalia, Gladio’s tale of the Trial of Gilgamesh told the night before still fresh in his mind.

Gladio sits beside him, taking up most of the room, but not touching, and Noctis finds his knee wanting to gravitate towards the Shield’s leg.

When it lands, it’s _right_.

 _I missed you_.

The realization has Noctis staring, the final piece of a lifelong puzzle falling into place.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Gladio teases when he catches Noctis looking at him.

“Hey, Gladio?”

Gladio’s eyebrows raise, an answer of its own.

Ignis, turning the key in the ignition, is preoccupied with Prompto, who is currently attempting to give the advisor directions to their next stop. Beneath their chatter, Noctis speaks into the moment that is only theirs.

“You can’t just run off whenever life doesn’t suit you, you know.”

The Regalia purrs, but it might as well be silent. Gladio’s eyes widen just enough for Noctis to notice it, an understanding in them that satisfies him.

Noctis isn’t able to keep his voice from wavering. “Your job is to protect me, right?”

With a curious look, Gladio’s hand creeps across the short distance between them, coming to rest on Noctis’s knee.

He squeezes once. It's enough.

“Yeah,” Gladio agrees, a solemn vow.

As the Regalia turns to follow the road, Gladio uses the vehicle’s sway as an opportunity to slide closer to Noctis, his hand never moving from where it rests.

_Right where it belongs._

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Twitter @HardNoctLife or Tumblr at hard-noct-life


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